Breaking Point
by WildRoverMarauderess8
Summary: Paris's two superheroes have inspired awe for the past three years. But the boy and girl behind the mask have their own struggles as they try to reconcile their normal selves with their Miraculous selves...
1. i

I

Marinette

After spilling the entire carton of milk on the new top I had just designed, inking myself with my own pen, breaking my phone, not speaking to Alya for a week, trying to get myself over the guilt of breaking up with Luka, ruining an order and losing the business of a major customer, almost revealing my secret identity to my entire English class, failing a crucial exam, dealing with the specter of The Future, and finally, tripping over and crashing into Adrien and dragging him down with me and accidentally cutting his cheek with my key—I was done.

I threw myself on my bed, then flipped over and gazed at the ceiling.

Tikki floated in my peripheral vision as I hugged a pillow, tears starting in my eyes.

"Why can't I do anything right?" I asked her brokenly.

"Marinette," Tikki said with a little smile. "You're Ladybug. You save Paris from Hawkmoth almost daily. You do many things right." She nestled against my wet cheek.

"Ladybug," I said flatly. "Ladybug does everything right." I closed my eyes in pain. "What I meant was…Tikki…why can't Marinette do anything right?"

Tikki detached herself from my cheek with a jerk and flung herself into the air so she could hover above me and force eye contact.

"Now you listen. Ladybug and Marinette are the same person," she pointed out firmly. "The same wonderful, sweet, caring young lady. And she is you. You've just had a bad week…month, Marinette."

It only made me cry harder. "They're not, though, Tikki. Ladybug is confident, and...and brave, and everything Marinette is not."

"Is this about Adrien still?" My Kwami asked knowingly, her big eyes clouding over.  
I smacked the pillow in frustration. "Three years, Tikki, three years." I crammed my fist into my mouth to muffle my sobs. "I've loved him, and when I try to move on and open myself to someone else, I can't. I love him too much, and now I've gone and hurt Luka, and I hurt Adrien too today with my clumsiness. And Alya still won't talk to me, and even Nino's shut me out. I don't know what I'm doing with my life, know I want to be a designer, and I know I can get there, but everything just seems so hard sometimes, like the world's determined to drag you down. It's not just those things either, it's the little, insignificant things that shouldn't matter but are suddenly making or breaking my mood, Tikki, I've been feeling despair for a while now, and I don't know what to do," I finished in a rush.

"These things happen," Tikki reminded me gently. "It's just how life is. You're growing up, Marinette."

"And I'm struggling!" I put my hands to my head. "I don't know if I can handle it. And these things happen, yes, but these things _always_ happen to me. Always! Why don't I have the black cat Miraculous? I'm a walking disaster and bad luck magnet." I slumped down on my bed, my tears finally subsiding into a few shaky hiccups. "Chloe's been a huge witch recently, too. I hate how she treats everyone. I'm sorry, Tikki, I'm on a rambling rant."

"It's okay," she answered patiently. "You need to get it all out. Don't keep it bottled up."

I sighed. "I-I suppose. I feel slightly better now." I did, actually. I tried a smile. "Well. There's some studying I need to get done…but there's also a longing in me to sketch out a new design…Hmm, wonder how rosettes would look…on that jacket…" I trailed off, mind lost in the fog of a novel idea coming to fruition, and grabbed a sheet of paper.

My pencil had scratched for about half an hour, when I realized…

"Oh no! Tikki, my portfolio, where is it?" I had bound all my creations—the ones I deemed satisfactory, at least—into a leather folder. I would submit it when the time came for me to see what I could do about my dream of being a designer.

"Your portfolio? The one you were going to show Mr. Agreste?"

"Yes!" I yelped, rifling through my backpack and throwing things this way and that in a desperate bid to find it.

I groaned. "Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing it since math…Why am I so irresponsible?" I made a snap decision. "We need to get back to the school right now."

Tikki obliged, hopping into my purse. I shot to my feet and impatiently tried to cram my shoes on the wrong feet; frustrated, I kicked them off and opted to go barefoot rather than fuss with their snaps.

…

I managed to almost run into oncoming traffic—I stopped just in time—and slip on a banana peel and stub my bare toe on a root growing out of the sidewalk, but I eventually made it back to the school.

The clash of metal accosted my ears, and a buzz as I raced past the gym. Fencing Club was in session. I raced past the open door, partially to avoid running into Adrien after slashing his cheek and partially because I wanted to get to my math classroom before the teacher left.

I skidded to a stop in the corridor outside, almost losing my footing, and pounded on the door and tried the knob.

It was locked.

"No," I muttered, "No, no, no."

I had my hand lifted to knock again when the doorjamb turned and the janitor emerged, whistling as he hefted a mop and bucket.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dubois," I greeted him.

"Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng," he replied. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, actually," I said with a nervous smile. "I left a portfolio of drawings here, I believe. I'd like to check the room if you'd be so kind?"

"I didn't see anything," he allowed, "But go ahead. Just make sure to lock up when you leave."

"Thank you!" I cried, and rushed past him into the classroom, clipping a desk in my haste. I got down on my hands and knees and searched in vain, behind tables, under chairs, in the corners…nothing.

I blew a strand of my dark hair out of my face. My cheeks were smudged with a bit of dust from peering underneath furniture, and I didn't want to accept the fact that my portfolio was gone. Sketches from the past four years…plans for my Miraculous inspired line…

"That's okay," I reassured Tikki as much as myself. "I'm sure someone picked it up. Maybe Nathaniel, he knows all about drawing…how I pour your heart into those sketches…" I trailed off.

"That's right, Marinette!" She chirped. "I'm sure you'll get it back Monday!"

I smiled, also optimistic, and turned to exit through the door. I was proud I remembered to lock up as I left.

Everything was going to be okay. Sure, it had been rough lately, but I could make it right. And I had the fashion expo with Adrien to look forward to…

The thought brought a smile to my lips until I heard my name.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

The spoiled drawl stopped me in my tracks as I hurried back through the school. I had to get home—my parents were furious about me bungling that order. Consequences would be discussed when they closed the bakery early for the day, at 17:30, I had been told. And it was probably best I got home before then.

But that tone made me stop.

Chloe Bourgeois stepped out from the shadows, Sabrina by her side. The former's makeup was impeccable as usual—though applied a bit too thickly, in my opinion. She wore her favorite yellow bolero with tailored cream capris and a yellow top that blended into the jacket and about blinded you. To my taste, it was too much yellow…or of the same shade of yellow…she could go with a black shirt for contrast, and instead of that belt, use a thinner one…

"What do you want, Chloe?" I demanded, weary. I shoved my criticism of her fashion sense out of mind and tried to ignore the nagging feeling of foreboding eating me.

"Isn't it obvious?" She cooed in a sticky-sweet voice. "I'm here to return something you lost."

I started to get a sick feeling. I said nothing.

"Sabrina, the papers," she ordered, palm out and ready to receive.

Sabrina placed a sheaf of my sketches in her outstretched hand, dropping the leather cover of my portfolio on the floor. Involuntarily, I rushed forward with a gasp.

"I warned you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng," Chloe shook her head and clucked her tongue sadly.

"I guess you get to tell her I told you so!" Sabrina exclaimed, always trying to curry Chloe's favor.

"I told you so," Chloe went on, with a withering look at her associate. "Stay away from Adrien Agreste. He's mine, and I mean it. I told you I'd ruin you."

Something clicked in her hand. A small flame flared.

"You can't do that, Chloe!" I cried. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, we'll see just what I dare," she retorted, as the fire crawled up the pages of my designs and graceful, loving pencil curves shriveled to naught but ash. She held the corner of the mess and when it had been incinerated, she laughed at me, on my knees, every beat of my heart a slow, deliberate thud of pain as I knelt in the rain of the ashes of my imagination…

My eyes filled. I had my hands over my mouth.

Chloe and Sabrina strutted off, laughing. Their laughter echoed in my brain.

"Marinette!" Tikki cried. I was crying again, swiping the back of my nose with a hand. "You can make new ones…"

"No," I gasped. "Those were one of a kind. Colored and everything. I don't have that kind of time to create a whole other portfolio. That took me years."

Tikki shook her little head. "I can't believe she did that."

"I can," I growled, my tears giving way to a very familiar anger directed at Chloe. Stronger than I had ever felt it.

So I was hardly surprised when I saw the akuma winging its way towards me.

"Oh my God…can this day get any worse?"

I scrambled to my feet and started to run from it, trying to think quickly of a solution. I whipped around a corner and plunged blindly into a locker room. The akuma couldn't touch me, or touch anything I had touched, lest Paris be without the only person who could get _rid_ of akumas for a while. Akumatizing Ladybug…now wouldn't that be a jewel in Hawkmoth's crown?

"Tikki, this cannot happen," I declared, keeping my blurry eyes peeled for the stinky bug, which was glowed black and purple with every flutter of its luminescent wings.

"No," she agreed. She was trembling, she was so tense. "You have a little time—you can transform and catch it before it finds you or another victim."

"Tikki, spots on!" I cried in a rush. Instantly, uncertain, insecure Marinette melted into cool, unperturbable Ladybug.

"Just try it, akuma," I threatened.

I unfastened my yo-yo from around my waist and cast it towards the nasty thing. The magic absorbed it, and when I reeled my yo-yo back in, I released an innocent, luminous white butterfly into the dimness of the school corridor. "Bye bye, little butterfly," I sighed.

Around me, there was only silence. "Spots off," I mumbled, becoming Marinette in a flash. I felt calmer now, but I was still very upset. I felt defeated. The sense of crushing despair had returned. What did I have now? I wondered. _I've lost my best friend, the only person I know how to truly love hates me, I've ruined so many friendships, my only chance to get into a trade school or get an internship just went up in flames, my parents might lose the bakery over my mistakes…I bring disaster everywhere I go…_

 _All I've got now is Ladybug._

 _My only purpose…the only way I can do things right…_

 _Or else why am I here?_

"Marinette?" Tikki asked, having reappeared with my detransformation.

I realized I had been silent for a while. Not crying, not speaking. Barely breathing.

"Tikki...I...I don't think I can do it anymore. It's getting so hard...to be...to be Marinette and Ladybug."

"I understand you're upset," My Kwami began. And she did, I knew that. I peered at her, feeling as though my next act would be a betrayal of sorts. "But Marinette, the world needs Ladybug. Now more than ever, with Hawkmoth up to his evil!"

I smiled a bit sadly.

"Oh, I know the world needs Ladybug," I answered. "It just doesn't need Marinette."

Before Tikki could puzzle out exactly what I meant, I ordered, "Transform me."

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, that awkward, insecure, and clumsy marvel, vanished as she melted into Ladybug, that confident, courageous, envy-inducing wonder.

Instantly I felt better. I breathed deeply, then let it out.

 _This is who I am now. Who I will be from this day forward._

I took my first step forward as Ladybug, and pondered how I had gotten to this point…my breaking point.


	2. II

II

Adrien

"She really did a number on your face," Plagg observed through a mouth full of cheese.

I shrugged, studying the cut in the mirror. It was an inflamed red and stung as I cleaned it with a bit of alcohol. I gritted my teeth as the pain really set in.

"What, you don't think it makes me look rakish?" I joked, trying to ignore it. I struck a pose. "I am Chat Noir, defender of the innocent, the Shadow of the Streets, the Knight in Shining Black Armor, the King of the Pun-gle—"

"You're pushing it with that last one, Adrien," Plagg opined as he burped a stench of camembert directly in my face.

"Ugh, Plagg!" I waved a hand in front of my nose. " _You're_ pushing it with that nasty cheese!"

You'd think I'd be used to it after over three years, but no. I couldn't stand it. I didn't even want to think about how many wheels of camembert were aging in my minifridge right now. I had given _up_ on using my minifridge. The last bar of chocolate I had in there was distinctly moldy cheese-flavored.

"Camembert isn't nasty," Plagg argued.

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair. This was _not_ a debate I wanted to have. Idly I wondered if Ladybug's Kwami was this annoying, or also obsessed with cheese.

"When you carry it around all day, it gets to that point," I muttered. I took a piece of tissue and blotted at the cut, which was newly seeping a little blood.

"Geez, it hasn't stopped bleeding yet?" Plagg asked incredulously.

"It's nothing, just a scratch. I don't mind that much. It was an accident. Marinette didn't mean to hurt me."

"Oooh, listen to lover boy." Plagg did a cheerful flip.

"Ah, no, don't be ridiculous, Plagg. She's just a friend," I reminded him a bit dreamily, "My heart belongs to M'Ladybug,"

"Just a friend who you ask out, dance with, hug for ages, make moony eyes at, ask for her number…yes, Adrien, definitely just a friend. But how she managed to cut you with a _key,_ I really can't understand. How can she possibly be Marinette and La—lame, so lame, I also can't understand. Constantly tripping over her own feet. Causing disaster. Particularly around you," he added, tripping over his own words in his haste to get them out.

My eyes flashed. "Marinette isn't lame, Plagg. She's one of the kindest people I know. I'm…really glad she's in my life." I ignored the rest of his verbal spew—just the latest bit of cynicism from the sarcastic creature—and sighed. My feelings were so mixed up at the moment. I couldn't deny anymore that I felt something for Marinette…but there was still that hope I was holding out that Ladybug, well, that someday she would save this wayward black cat and all could be right with my world. But I couldn't deny that many times Marinette had been my rock, her sweet smile warmth in a cold world. More and more I was gravitating towards her. Sometimes I felt so fragile around Ladybug. Like my love was going to break me.

 _In the love department, I don't think this cat has nine lives…_

I looked in the mirror and wondered if I was okay.

"Plagg," I said, my voice a bit shaky, "Sometimes I don't know what to do. Sometimes I feel like it's tearing me apart."

"If you want my advice," he answered, taking another bite of soft, stinky camembert, "Give Marinette a chance."

"It's not just that. It's everything. I've been on my own for so long, I mean, I'm used to it. Lone black cat in the night and all. For so long Ladybug shut me out of her trust. My father doesn't talk to me, my only link to him is through Nathalie. I'm used to that. But I just want someone to rely on…really, Plagg, I want my mother…"

I slumped over the sink, disconsolate.

"You have me, Adrien," he reminded me.

I looked fondly at my Kwami, his cat eyes wide and serious for once. "Y-yeah. And I'm really glad." I was. Many times Plagg had convinced me that I mattered as Chat Noir, that I had purpose despite feeling low and useless. "And I wish…I wish Ladybug would trust me…enough to tell me who she was." I looked down at my hands, fingers toying with my ring, tugging at it, twisting.

"Why don't you wish for the moon while you're at it, kid?"

"You're right," I sighed. "She'll never tell me. I just wish I had a name at least. I wish I could talk to her, about how I feel, and ask her how she manages. The girl's amazing—I bet she goes through life confident and perfectly able to accept who she is."

"Maybe not," Plagg said sagely. "Those masks don't just hide your face."

I looked at him sharply. "Why am I even talking to you about this? You know who she is. How could you possibly understand…"

That was another thing—I'd tried to get the truth out of Plagg ever since Dark Owl had attempted drowning Ladybug and me in whipped cream. Raclette, gouda, gruyere, port salut, Roquefort, gorgonzola, wedges and wheels of camembert… and more camembert…and _more_ camembert…The stinkier and older the better. But nothing. Nothing broke him.

Plagg was about to say something when a sharp rap sounded on my bedroom door. He whipped underneath my shirt in a second, tickling my chest.

"Adrien?" I emerged from the bathroom as my father entered the room. The Gabriel Agreste—tall, unsmiling, grey of eye, hair, and demeanor. That's all I can call it—grey. When my mother was still in our lives, I think there was color. I think he saw the world that way. But to be honest I can't really remember. He was probably always a downer.

"Yes, Father?" I replied a bit crisply, hugging my arms around my chest. What I wouldn't give for his recognition, his love. But I hadn't seen him in almost two months. He'd been shut up with his designs, his grief for my mother…shut up in his damn world of grey. What the hell could I do about it? I'd learned a hard lesson the last few years of my childhood.

"You've grown, my son," he said haggardly, barely looking at me.

He doesn't see me for months and this is what he says?

"Yes, Father. I'm eighteen in a couple of weeks."

I remained firmly closed up, implying this audience was at an end. Every time I opened myself to him, left room for hope…it just fell through. I couldn't even remember when I had officially given up on him.

"Yes," he said awkwardly. Awkwardly. My father. How far we had fallen. "And thus I was hoping we could talk about your future."

"My future." I tasted the word.

"Yes. I was hoping—" He looked at me closely. "What—what happened to your face? Nathalie said you had been hurt."

"Nothing to concern yourself with," I assured him coolly. "I fell at school. No big deal. Carry on, please."

"Your future," he went on, a bit doubtfully. "I was hoping that you would consider modeling as a potential career."

I stood very still. I felt Plagg quiver against me through my shirt.

I hadn't ever thought about my future. As far as I could see, Paris would need Chat Noir there to defend it from evil. That was my future—hopefully spent with Ladybug in some form. But my future as…Adrien? As a regular person? Now, that was an enigma.

"With all due respect," I responded, eyes downcast, my fists clenching by my sides. "Modeling is something I do for you, Father. But I will not dedicate my life to it."

When next my eyes met his, Gabriel Agreste saw a challenge in his son's eyes: a rebellion.

And it was this look that made him step back.

"That temper," he intoned coldly, any pretense of reconciliation gone.

"What am I supposed to say?" I asked, meeting his look dead-on. "Everything I've done, Father, I've done for you, hoping, wishing, you'd come back to me. But as the years passed, you just got farther and farther away from me. All I wanted was to make you proud to win you back. But I see now that was impossible."

I was shaking. The warm bump of Plagg against my flesh gave me courage. "I'm not going to live my life for you anymore. It's _my_ life. I'm almost an adult. I only wish you hadn't betrayed me."

I turned away.

My father stood there for an instant. He reached out his hand, as though to touch my shoulder. My eyes had grown hot and were in danger of spilling tears.

I set my jaw. _I will not cry in front of him._

Finally I heard his heels thud softly to the door, which he shut with a click.

I collapsed on the floor. Plagg shot from under my shirt, floating next to me. I blinked a few tears out and wiped the rest away. I took a shaky sigh.

"I had to do it," I announced to myself as much as to him.

Plagg looked at me with something like sympathy. "You know, camembert does wonders for grief."

I had buried my head in my hands, but I looked up and cracked a watery smile at his attempt to cheer me. "C'mon, Plagg. I feel trapped." Reaching up for the remote that controlled my window, I located it on top of the piano.

I hit the button and breathed deeply. Now I wasn't too upset. I realized the detachment had existed for longer than I had wanted to recognize it for, and that knowledge insulated me from the pain. Still, an escape would be nice, even just for the moment.

I closed my eyes. "Claws out."

"I hate transforming," Plagg reminded me halfheartedly as he swirled into my ring. With a starburst of green, I became Chat Noir—sleek, nimble, and sly. Attached to no one (okay, I won't kid myself, this cat's always pining for his lady)—no emotional obligations, free. Free for a night, anyway.

I pulled out my baton and vaulted out the window.

Soon I was flying over the rooftops of Paris. It was a beautiful night—there's nothing quite like Paris at night. Golden lights, a marvel of electricity, and the Eiffel Tower all lit up.

 _It's worth more if you have someone to share it with, though._

Below me, the streets were quiet, the occasional purr of a car or shriek of laughter from a group of kids the only interruption.

Almost without realizing, I found myself perched on a familiar roof. I blinked. _This was where I set up that date for Ladybug…and brought Marinette instead when she stood me up._

Marinette. I gazed across the street, and sure enough, there was her balcony. The cheerful little multicolored lights strung about it were dark.

It gave me an odd feeling. They were just lights, and of course she would turn them off when she went to bed, but…something didn't feel right.

I checked the time on the computer in my baton. 21:06. It wasn't so late. Most people would be dining with their families…

I propped my chin on my fist and sighed. _If they had them…_

I waited for a while, in case those lights flickered on and Marinette came to keep vigil from her balcony.

Since the night of the Glaciator attack, when we both cheered one another up a bit, I had fallen into the habit of swinging by her balcony some nights to see if she was out. She usually was, and we would make small talk. Nothing major, just an exchange between casual friends. Once she told me she came out almost every night to water her plants, and to sort out her thoughts a bit. Gaze at the Paris skyline, the Seine, what stars were visible, and dream. Almost every night, around this time.

So I waited for her to come.

But she never did.


	3. III

III

Marinette

It all began two weeks ago. ..

"This so exciting!" I squealed to Alya. "There's going to be a fashion trade show at the end of the month! World-renowned designers, never-before-seen designs, and a chance to—"

"And a chance to see Adrien," Alya cut in with a little smirk, scribbling something in a notebook she always had handy.

"Kyaaaaa!" I yelped, insanely psyched.

"Oh, speak of the devil," my best friend added.

I almost fell over when I turned around and yes, there was Adrien Agreste.

"H-Hi, Adr-Adrien," I was able to get out. By now, the boy probably thinks I have a permanent stutter that recurs occasionally.

"Hey Marinette!" He beamed at me, his hair a bit tousled this morning, his green eyes brilliant as always. "Couldn't help overhearing—you're interested in going to the trade show?"

"Ye-yes," I answered, relatively proud of myself for not needing Alya to answer for me. I had come pretty far in the past three [BC1] years. Granted, I could talk to Adrien just fine as Ladybug, but that was another situation entirely...one I didn't like thinking about, thanks to the interest of a certain black cat. And I couldn't exactly pop into his life as the famous superhero anyway. Secret identity and all that. _Complications, complications…_

"Well," Adrien continued, "I'm sorry to disappoint, but the show's only open to those in the field of fashion."

Here he smirked slightly.

"That being said—" The beatific smile was back, a bit shy, a bit cheeky—"Marinette, I know how much you love fashion. Will you be my—"

"ADRIKINS!" Chloe squealed. "Of course I'll be your date to the show!"

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." A low, strange sound choked from my throat.

Everyone looked at me with a bit of alarm. "Steady, girl," Alya hissed, gripping my arm so that I couldn't bolt like I was about to. "Let's just see how this plays out."

Ignoring Alya, I turned from the knot of people—and the invading Chloe, who had her arms looped around Adrien like a demented octopus—and fled down the corridor.

"Girl, hold on!" Alya pounded after me. "Adrien was totally gonna ask you! You can't just let this go!"

"I should, though. I'd feel bad going with him anyway."

"Why, because of Luka?"

I nodded. Luka Couffaine, a year our senior, and the brother to Juleka. He and I had been going steady for not long—only almost two months—when something clicked and I realized that it just wasn't right. I didn't love him, and how could I lie to him? My heart was still taken—occupied by a certain boy with the surname Agreste.

That didn't change the fact that I felt terrible about the break-up. I was the one who had brought it about. I had crushed him. I had been such a fool to get caught up in heat-of-the-moment feelings, and Luka showed me what Adrien did not…kindness, caring, love…I wanted it so badly…I treated the situation, I treated him, like a compensation prize because I couldn't have Adrien.

And I hated myself for it.

"You can't just stop your life because of a break-up!" Alya exclaimed.

I didn't comment.

"Girl, you broke up with him _because_ of Adrien!"

"I don't deserve either of them," I stated glumly. "I feel terrible. Why did I do what I did?"

Alya waved a hand. "It's in the past, Marinette." She grabbed my shoulders. "You learned from it, didn't you?"

"Ye-yes," I answered shakily. Did I ever.

I never wanted to hurt anyone like that again. It had damaged a good friend, and it had damaged me, too. It was getting harder and harder to face up to myself. Did making these mistakes just go along with becoming an adult? _And how can I reconcile Marinette's mistakes with Ladybug's day-saving_ _[BC2]_ _[BC3]_ _?_

"Okay, I know how much you're struggling right now, but as your best friend, I encourage you to at least hear what Adrien had to say. He might have been asking whether you wanted to be his girlfriend, whether you would be his math tutor, or whether you would be his guest for the fashion expo." Alya took my cold hands. "Marinette, I know the smile that boy brings to your face, and I'd like to see it again. The only time you smile so genuinely is when he's around."[BC4]

"He doesn't need a math tutor," I mumbled distractedly, thinking both of his academic prowess and of Chloe's little threat simultaneously.

Could I tell Alya about it? She was my best friend…

"Stay away from Adrien, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or I'll ruin you and your family."

Normally I didn't put much stock into things Chloe said or did, but that particular threat was delivered with my back slammed up the wall. I had been pinned to a row of lockers by Kim, my wrist twisted, as Chloe leaned into my face (shoving her nose where it didn't belong, as usual, though this time literally) and hissed those words.

I hadn't told anyone about it—I was Ladybug, right? I could handle a little nastiness from that brat. I'd dealt with her for years. Sometimes she had her moments, and for the most part, I actually felt a bit sorry for her. A very, very microscopic bit.

But that was before.

Before I'd seen the sheer menace in her icy gaze.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, considering. There was that, and the fact that I still felt so guilty. If anything happened between me and Adrien, would it just be a rebound?

 _Don't be silly,_ I thought. _Nothing's ever gonna happen between you and Adrien if it hasn't already. And you threw away a good friendship and a good relationship over a stupid dream._

I sighed and replied elusively, "No point, Alya."

"What do you mean, 'no point'?" My best friend demanded. "Marinette!"

I shrugged.

"This is so not you! Have you been akumatized or something!?" Alya exclaimed. "You…you're suddenly so pessimistic. Where's the happy, bubbly girl I know?"

"I don't know. I've just been really unhappy lately, Alya. Things weighing on me."

"Well, snap out of it!" She said vehemently. "And Marinette, I think it's time."

"What?" I asked, my eyes wide.

"Tell Adrien how you feel. It's been ages since those feelings first developed, you know each other better now…I'm pretty sure he stares at you in English—"

"He sits _behind_ me," I pointed out.

"And why do you think that is?" Alya shot back, then steamed ahead. "And he was so totally going to ask you! And look, there he is now!" She gave me a shove out of the little alcove she had pulled me into.

I cut a disgruntled look back at her as I caught my balance against the locker…just in time for Adrien to spot me.

"Marinette!" He exclaimed, putting some haste in his step as he intercepted me, no thanks to Alya.

I gave him a finger-wave, trying to keep the butterflies from akumatizing my stomach into a churning pit. "H-Hi."

"Listen, I'm sorry about before," he went on, running a hand—a perfectly sculpted, well defined extremity—through his hair. Would that those hands would hold mine… "I wasn't going to ask Chloe. In fact…" Now he looked a bit guilty. "I don't want to go with her. She's been my friend since we were in diapers, but I don't want to go with her. I've told her yes too much. So I finally said no…that I wanted to go with you." Now he looked adorably nervous.

I could feel a flush beginning in my cheeks. "R-really?"

"Yes. Marinette, do you want to be my guest for the fashion expo?"

"Go with you? I squeaked. "In your car? With you to escort me? With wonderful you?"

My face burned when I realized that, while my sentences were comprehensible this time (I hadn't said I was going to take a ride in a coleslaw or anything) I didn't have control of my tongue. "I-I'd love to, but—"

"Great!" Adrien interrupted, giving me his grin again. "It's settled!" He leaned in a bit, to where his breath tickled my ear. A lock of hair that had come loose from one of my pigtails stirred in response. "Bring a portfolio of your designs…I know how amazing they are! You can show my father…he actually might show, can you believe it?"[BC5]

No wonder Adrien was so excited about the expo! His father almost never left the house. "I'm really glad to hear that," I replied sincerely.

His smile widened. I melted inside. That smile…

It made me about swallow my tongue.

"So, I'll text you the details," he went on. "I don't have all the times yet, but this way I can get them to you right away."

He was still standing alarmingly close to me, prickling the hairs on my forearms in a most pleasant way. His scent was clean, simple, like new laundry. He didn't wear any [BC6] cologne, not even the fragrances he advertised for…he was just Adrien, down to earth, smiling at me, making me _leave_ that earth…

"Marinette?" He prompted. "Can I, uh, have your number?"

"Gah—guh—of gorse! Course!" I corrected emphatically, reaching into my purse for my phone. I felt Tikki give my fingers a bit of a snuggle. It gave me a warm feeling.

"Here," I said, handing him my phone and, naturally, dropping it.

We dove for it at the same time and collided. My hand flew to my mouth. "Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Marinette." He answered, saying my name in that way that made me feel I had never heard it before, that it was specially crafted to roll off his tongue, and his alone.

I mentally kicked myself as he picked it up, turning it over with horror. "Damn."

I gasped. The display was completely shattered, the insides of the phone visible. My heart sank. "I don't think I can fix that."

"I'll go with you to see, at least," Adrien offered, a frown creasing his brow. Concern in his verdant eyes.

"No, no," I managed. "It's all right. I'm getting a new one in months a couple. Coup…couple months…."

I flushed. I'm sure it wasn't pretty, either—I'm so pale it's a stark contrast and startling. I've had Alix ask me if I had a fever or something once.

He looked uncertain. "Are you sure? I feel like it's my fault."

"Yes," I said firmly. "I'm just an awkward, clumsy person."

He laughed a little, patting my shoulder. "But a very good-hearted one."

 _Adrien?_ He seemed almost transfixed by our eye contact.

"Well." He broke it off at last, directing his attention to the linoleum. "I'd better go. The Gorilla's waiting. I'll get the information to you in person, then."

"Okay, sounds like a plan," I assured him. "Don't worry about the phone. And sorry I am for making you late to your chauffer. I mean, sorry. And sorry for—"

"Oh Marinette, stop apologizing!" He cut me off good-naturedly and stunned me when he pulled me into a hug. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Good weekend have you," I muttered, my arms wrapped around his neck, my face buried in his shoulder. _And what a shoulder…_

Finally he pulled away. Then backed up awkwardly, still facing me, like he didn't want to go. Looking like he wanted to say something else, but…he shook his head and gave me a last grin and a two fingered salute, then sprinted towards the doors.

I stared open mouthed at his retreating figure. The only person who had ever saluted me like that was Chat. I had to say, Adrien doing it was a definite improvement…

"Ahhhh!" I gasped, sinking into a kneel.

"Way to go, girl!" Alya cheered, exploding from the corner where she had been hiding, observing _everything_ , She about tackled me in a hug. "Sorry about the phone, though…"

I looked down at the hunk of useless metal I was still clutching. "Right…did you see how he held me, Alya? It was so romantic! What if he could hold me like that for eternity?" I sighed dreamily, "What if—"

"One minute, eleven seconds," she interjected, showing me the display of her phone, which was open to stopwatch, and read one minute, eleven seconds.

I about hit the ceiling. "You _timed_ the hug?"

"Of course!" she said, grinning. "And I think…he's totally into you."

I squealed, over the moon. But something weighed down my joy, even with Adrien's evident interest…my guilt. "But it's not fair," I objected.

Alya stuck her finger in my face. "Now listen here, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If you drudge up any more arguments concerning hurting an ex-boyfriend, well, I'm sorry, but that's just how life goes. At least you ended it before it got too involved." Alya would know, she and Nino had done some interesting things I actually wasn't really interested in right now. _But maybe in the future…with Adrien…_ "C'mon, Marinette. You wanted to be happy, and I _know_ Adrien makes you happy. Just go with it!"

"All right," I sighed, capitulating for now. I brightened. "I'd better get cracking, then! I only have two weeks to get together a portfolio! To show _Mr. Agreste_! And any other designer who might be interested in offering me a leg up! I'm so excited, Alya!"

"That's my girl!" She exulted, and laughed with me as I started rapidly drawing up plans. "I have to figure out what to wear, to make a good impression—I'll have plenty of designs but I want to have a sample, you know? And I'm thinking to show the Ladybug and Chat Noir and Rena Rouge inspired line…" I chuckled a bit; Alya ought to like that homage.

Still laughing, we walked together to the doors.


	4. IV

IV

Adrien

Marinette wasn't at school the next day. Or the following day.

I wasn't really worried, though. I'd put my feeling of foreboding to rest. Marinette was always missing school for some reason. She probably just got sick a lot.

I sat through English, missing her perky pigtails and shy smarts, but when I caught myself daydreaming about how Ladybug also wore pigtails, and usually a smile, and was sexy smart…

Well, I got a bit distracted.

"Adrien?" Ms. Bustier demanded, "Are you with us?" My head had been drooping on my arms as I closed my eyes and imagined those skylight, bluebell eyes…

"Yes?"

A few people snickered from behind me.

"I asked you a question. What's Hamlet's motivation?"

Reluctantly, I forced myself to focus on my teacher, who had somehow moved up a grade with her students almost every year. "…Love?"

Behind me, Kim laughed outright.

"Oooooh, Adrien's in _love_ with someone!" Rose squealed from the back of the classroom.

I rubbed the side of my face, an apologetic smile in place. "Uh…" _I guess that wasn't his motivation, then…_

"It had better be me," Chloe sniffed from across the room.

"Students!" Ms. Bustier scowled a little. "Focus! Finals are in a little over a week."

I was secretly thankful she had rescued me from that situation.

She relaxed her expression, continuing. "Really, now. You are all leaving high school at the end of the month. Just hold it together for a little while longer!" Her smile was back, but it fell slightly. "Speaking of which…attendance. Marinette is absent again? And Mylene is, as well?"

"Mylene's sick," Ivan volunteered from his position hunched over his desk.

"And Marinette?" Ms. Bustier prompted.

Silence.

"Alya? Do you know where Marinette is?"

I looked curiously at Alya, anticipating her answer. I had tried to ask her that very question yesterday, but she had brushed me off with a glare.

"I haven't heard from her," she replied stonily, staring intently at her desk.

"Nino?" I whispered to my seat partner. "What's going on with Alya and Marinette…?"

"Dude. Don't ask," he muttered back, out of the corner of his mouth.

I fell back in my chair, frustrated.

Ms. Bustier was still talking. "…ensure that Mylene and Marinette get their homework for the past few days?"

"I'll give it to Mylene," Ivan promised.

"Great! Alya, will you—"

" _No,_ " Alya answered, her arms crossed, her voice final.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd raised my hand. "I'll do it!"

"Thank you, Adrien. Ivan and you can collect the assignments after class. Now, returning to Hamlet's motivation…"

Alix raised her hand. "It was revenge."

"Yes, Hamlet—"

I couldn't focus on the rest of the lesson thanks to the din of the alarm bells I had been trying to ignore since I had seen Marinette's dark balcony. Cat instincts were probably correct. _Something's not right._

I had figured out Alya and Marinette weren't talking. That much was obvious. I just didn't know why, and I couldn't get an answer. And I knew she hadn't been having a good day by the time she had tripped and ended up on top of me…her shirt and pants were splattered with a black stain, and her eyes had dark circles underneath them. Like she hadn't been sleeping well.

I didn't think she was just sick. She had missed school before, but not three days in a row. And she just hadn't seemed okay when last I had seen her. But I held back because I knew how embarrassed she had been…

Dropping off her homework would give me a good excuse to find out what was going on.

…

I don't think classes had ever gone by so slowly. By the time Fencing Club wrapped up, I was so anxious I ran out wearing my fencing attire and still bearing my rapier.

The Gorilla was perfectly on time, as usual. He grunted as me as I yanked the door open, threw my books and bookbag and foil in with a clatter, and demanded breathlessly, "I need to make a stop at Marinette's…the bakery…to drop her homework off."

I received another grunt—this time of assent—as he started the car and began driving in that direction. She lived across from the school. I leaned forward in anticipation as we hit the red light.

After what seemed an eternity, the old woman finished crossing and we continued, pulling up in front of the bakery. I opened the door and skidded out, carrying her assignments, but…

"Cheese, Adrien," Plagg moaned from underneath my jacket.

"Plagg!" I scolded. "Later. We have bigger problems."

I was looking at the sign on the boulangerie-patisserie door, which read closed. The inside was dark. Hesitantly, I raised my hand and knocked.

Nothing. No answer.

"Princess isn't home, eh?" Plagg was peering from his hiding place. He had taken to calling her Princess sometimes, ever since I'd shown up as Chat Noir to plan to crash Evillustrator's birthday party.

I frowned, more convinced than ever that something was wrong. "I'm worried," I admitted in a low voice.

I stood there for a minute, then I knocked louder and more insistently.

Another minute slipped by. Nothing. I listened for footsteps, but heard none.

A horn blared. The Gorilla—renowned for his patience.

I gritted my teeth and called through the open window, "Just one more minute, okay?"

The honking stopped.

I continued to wait. Still, no one came to answer the door.

"Maybe she went on a trip?" Plagg suggested, who until now had been uncharacteristically quiet.

Finally I stared at the darkened counter and tables inside and was forced to admit defeat. My mind swirled with questions as I backed away and climbed into the car, dropping Marinette's homework on the seat with a thump.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," I muttered to Plagg, who had been telling me to chill out for the past few days.

"I agree with you there," he said, surprisingly. "Before, it was just her being absent, but now we know the bakery's shut down…if something's happened to that girl, though, we're in trouble…"

"What?" I kicked the empty front passenger seat, trying to release a little frustration. "Why?"

"Nothing, kid. Just the fact that you'll be moping more than usual."

I scowled, but subsided into thought. We were silent the rest of the way home.

…

I was sitting at my desk that night, staring blankly at Hamlet, open on my desk, when I heard the news bulletin.

"Don't be amused, it's just the news! Hi, I'm Nadja Chamack. There's great cause for concern this evening in Paris. A Parisian teenager has gone missing—"

I hadn't been paying attention—in fact, I definitely wasn't paying attention—daydreaming about Ladybug—when the name jolted me out of my stupor.

"—Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been confirmed missing after two days. She did not come home after school on Tuesday. No foul play is suspected at this point, but the police are ruling nothing out."

I leaned forward, my mouth open.

Plagg zoomed into my face. "Haven't you been listening? That's your princess." He looked majorly worried.

I shook my head and leaned even closer.

"Marinette is seventeen years old, with blue eyes and dark hair usually worn in pigtails. Later, we'll be joined by her parents, the owners of the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, and her best friend, Alya Cesaire, also the founder of the Ladyblog. For now, here to provide more information on the case is Clara Contard with our [BC1] very own Roger of the police force. Over to you, Clara."

"Roger, what can you tell us?" Clara asked, shoving her microphone in Roger's face. He was standing outside the bakery, looing pale and sweaty.

"It's still early on in the case," Sabrina's father said, twisting his police cap nervously in two large hands. "But rest assured, we will find Ms. Dupain-Cheng and bring her home safely, whatever has happened."

"And have Ladybug and Chat Noir been called in?" Clara pressed.

"Not as of yet," Roger admitted, fidgeting. "They're superheroes, and they're amazing, of course, but this is a police job. It's a disappearance. Ladybug and Chat Noir have never handled robberies or kidnappings or anything of that sort before. Crime isn't really the area of Ladybug and Chat Noir's expertise."

"It is now," I said grimly. I pushed back my chair and stood up.

Plagg floated nervously as my right shoulder.

From the screen, the broadcast continued. "But you said there was no guarantee of foul play," the reporter objected.

"Well yes—no!" Roger bumbled. "I meant, it's too early to rule anything out. And now, if you'll excuse me…" He muttered something about paperwork back at the police station and strode away from the bakery.

"Officer!" Clara tore after him. "Officer, there's more questions I need to ask you!"

Roger didn't return, and I'd seen enough.

Resolutely, I grabbed the remote and stabbed the button. My window swung open.

"What are you doing?" Plagg asked apprehensively, a piece of camembert forgotten on my desk.

"What does it look like?" I shot back. "I'm gonna find Marinette."

"Whoa, whoa, wait, Adrien! You don't even know—"

"Claws out!"

The transformation ripped Adrien away with a starburst display of green light, leaving Chat Noir—slit-pupiled, lean, and dangerous—in his place.

I gritted my teeth. "I expect I'll figure it out." Without a second thought, I exploded out of my window in extreme turmoil for the second time in two nights.


End file.
